


No Need For a Cape

by LynyrdSkynyrd



Series: Moriría por vos [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gen, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynyrdSkynyrd/pseuds/LynyrdSkynyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You know how Messi is, he was probably improving his reputation as a saint.” </i>
</p><p>A crazy fan attacks Ronaldo during El Clásico and sometimes Messi acts before thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language please forgive any grammar mistakes.
> 
> Written for this prompt; http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5970400#t5970400

Cris frowned and looked around himself confusedly. Everything was normal one second and next they were attacking each other's throat (of course Cris was exaggerating). The last thing he remembers was staring at the ball at Busquets' feet and he wants to take it, he wants to take it from Busquets and score the winner for his team. Because after all the awards he's won and the money they pay to him, it's his duty to score and win games for his team, especially at their home, in front of their fans. And when it comes to his duties, Cris is always serious, determined and think like a warrior. His eyes narrowed and tried to see the scenario between blaugrana and white jerseys.

Pepe.

Cris almost rolled his eyes but he was very well aware of all these cameras around him and whole world was watching this match. Of course, what is an El Clásico fight without Pepe getting involved? Oh, and of course Busquets. Both players were so close to each other that their foreheads were almost touching while they were sending each other death glares and most probably throwing insults. At least this was what Cris could see between all these players around them.  

Cristiano didn't actually know what was going on. Of course, there is always tension between these teams, we are talking about El Clásico after all. But everything was going strangely well.A 0-0 draw at Santiago Bernabéu in 65th minute? Cris would take this. 2016 became a critical year for both sides so easily that none of them was ready to lose 3 points to other one. So the draw was not more than okay but at least it was acceptable and that means Barça and Real will keep going head to head in La Liga table.

But Pepe and Busquets (Sergio was ready to join them any moment but he was held by Iker Casillas, their captain, thank God) were having a some stupid argument which caused game to stop and the ref (finally!) were showing yellow cards to everyone around him like a mad traffic police. Cristiano was involved in many fights on the pitch before, sometimes because of fouls or insults or maybe to defend a teammate. But that doesn't mean Cris likes to fight. It is just a waste of time, you go on pitch to play football and if it is your lucky day, you win. That is all. Football is supposed to be the only reason. And Cristiano's sight was blocked by a guy who shares his thoughts. Well, not really, since Leo Messi was actually a tiny guy.  

Messi rolled his eyes and turned his back to the fight (and his face to Cris). Head bowed down as usual (Cris always wondered if it was because of shyness or nonchalance or maybe annoyance? Messi was a mysterious guy) and he walked toward his position, toward Cristiano. Cris was standing closer to his goal, Bale was faster and started a lucky counterattack against Barça (which stopped by Sergio fucking Busquets) and Cris stayed behind after the corner. Messi, on the other hand, recovered faster than Cris and as one of the fastest guys on the pitch, he chased Bale to stop him from scoring against them (Piqué was a good defender but not too fast).  

Messi, finally, came closer to Cris and raised his head reflexively. For a second, Cris thought Leo was going to say something to him. It wouldn't be so weird, yes, they rarely talk on the pitch but they were far from enemies unlike what media think. The truth is, Messi, _Leo_ , was always so polite to him and why wouldn't Cris be? Cris was never an angel, he was no saint but he was nothing like an evil guy who hates Messi only because they are rivals. Yeah, there were times he made fun of little Argentine, maybe his height (Ramos would make some jokes about it and Cris would laugh but the truth is, Cris always respected Messi's this side and never actually made a cruel joke about his height, not after he heard about his illness because Cris would respect him for being a fighter and reaching this point after everything he had to deal with, Cris _knows_ the feeling) or his weird just-came-out-of-the-bed hairstyle but they were harmless and let's be real, which footballer didn't make fun of others before? At least for once? Cris believes that in another lifetime, they could be close friends. Plus he has those puppy eyes which makes it so hard to dislike him.

But Messi didn't say anything to him.

Instead, he raised his hands, touched Cris' chest with his soft palms and Cris was so shocked to react when Messi pushed him with all his strength.

Cris' back hit the ground, hard, and got the wind knocked out of him. Black spots appeared in front of his eyes and for a moment the only thing he could see was the bright lights of stadium and darkness of the sky. When he felt his senses coming back to him, he clenched his teeth angrily. His back was reminding him that he fell really hard and he was shocked. It was unexpected. What was the little idiot's problem?! Cris didn't say anything to him, did nothing to provoke him. That quiet, calm and polite guy suddenly turned into a psycho and pushed him with a crazy expression and wide brown eyes. Cristiano could swear Messi lost his mind finally, went mad. But that was no excuse. _If this little man wants a fight, he will sure get one,_ Cris thought. He stood up angrily and clenched his fists, ready to punch the guy, just in case Messi would try to act first. But Messi was on his knee, balancing himself with one hand on the ground and wrapped the other one around himself. His head was bowed down and the only thing Cris could see was his soft looking brown hair. The first thing he thought was Casillas finally let Sergio go, Sergio saw what Messi did and punched him to revenge his friend. But Sergio was still standing next to Iker, looking toward them with wide eyes. Then Cris saw a Barça fan trying to espace from security and heard worried whispers of the fans. Did he hit his head so hard? His back was still hurting, was it worse than he thought? Because he was having a hard time of understanding what was going on around him. He was confused.

Then his sight blocked by a big yellow '3'. Gerard Piqué was standing right in front of him, yelling at someone, something, with the same manly voice and thick Spanish accent that Cris still remembers very well from their time at Manchester together. But Cris must be really shocked because he couldn't understand any of the words Piqué was talking and it was strange after living in Spain and speaking their language more than his own in past years.  

After then Xavi and other blaugranas gathered around Messi. Piqué turned around and Cris followed his gaze and saw medics were running toward them. They run passed Cris, pushed Piqué away and disappeared in the sea of blaugrana. Iker and Sergio walked to him slowly, Cris was aware that they were as shocked as him. Piqué ran a shaking hand through his messy hair.  

Iker gripped his arm and pulled Cris closer to Sergio and himself, away from Barça players. Sergio was standing right next to Iker.

“What is going on?” Cris frowned and looked at the big screen of the stadium. Maybe they would show the incident like they do with fouls and goals but the screen was black. Turned off. Cristiano was frustrated.  

“God, you are telling me that you didn't see?” Sergio raised his eyebrows with an expression saying _'you must be kidding, bro'_.

“The only thing I saw was Messi going mad and pushing me, Gosh, what is wrong with the dwarf?” Iker frowned at him but his expression was soft and almost.. worried? Sad?

“That 'dwarf' just saved your life, you should be nicer.” Cristiano raised one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows.

“Wait, what? What are you- But-” He turned his gaze to the sea of blaugrana and Barça players were slowly walking away. Then Cris was Messi, lying on a stretcher, left arm covering his face.

Eventually all the pieces fell into place.

“That guy, pitch invader, was going to.. attack me?” Iker shrugged.

“I don't know if you were his main target or he was going to attack any of us but coming to Santiago Bernabéu and wearing a Barça jersey while sneaking onto the pitch and trying to stab players, especially after what happened to poor Deportivo fan.. RFEF are paranoid right now. One thing is certain, that guy was crazy.” Cristiano was aware that he was looking at Iker like he just said Maradona was not Argentine.

“Wait, the fuck?! A knife?!” Iker nodded. Cris was planning to ask more but medics were taking Messi to tunnels and for this, they have to pass Cris first and Cris was grateful to Barça for wearing their home kit instead the away kit because at least, all the blood was not looking so bad on the blaugrana. But yeah, there was so much blood, Cris was not an idiot, he could tell this. And Cris felt like throwing up.  

“God.” Sergio murmured while watching medics disappear in the tunnels with Messi. “I mean, okay, I am not the biggest fan of the guy but it looks really bad.” Then he frowned like he remembered something and looked at Cris. “It was strange, you know, I mean he saved you and aren't you enemies or something? He could die while trying to help you.. he can still die, I mean we-” Cris waved his hand in the air, didn't want to hear the rest. Because if he hears Messi and death in the same sentence once again he's going to vomit. Literally.

“You know how Messi is, he was probably improving his reputation as a saint.” Cris ignored the enemy comment on purpose. Under normal circumstances he would roll his eyes and tell him that it's childish and they are adults, professionals but he was not in the mood to explain all these things to Sergio. Iker was eyeing him carefully and it irked Cris.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Cris heard Piqué's angry tone and his eyes searched for him, finally found him 'talking' to ref while Xavi and Mascherano were trying to keep him under control. But Piqué pushed them away and walked up to ref. “Keep playing?! How do you expect me to keep playing after my best friend got stabbed by a mad man?!”

“We won't postpone the game.” The ref said with no emotion. Nothing. When Casillas walked toward them, Cris followed him.

“Come on, ref, this is an extraordinary situation, a case of emergency. Barça players can't concerate now and don't you think it's rude and cruel? I mean, at least let's wait until we hear from them, huh? About his condition.” Ref glared at Casillas and shook his head.

“No one leaves the pitch before the game ends.” Piqué clenched his fists like he wants to punch the bastard but Enrique yelled at them from the sideline and Piqué closed his eyes to calm himself down, took a deep breathe and without looking any of them, he walked to his position. Cris looked behind the ref, he was walking to the middle of the pitch with ball tucked under his arm. _God_ , Cris thought, _what a jerk_.

 

 

Cris pulled his shirt over his head and kicked open the door of dressing room. The match ended 0-0. Barça didn't even try to score a goal after that and Piqué's head was somewhere else (Cris knew where), it was obvious from the mistakes he made. On their luck, Cristiano was as ruined as Piqué and like an ameteur, he missed 3 open goal chances that were created by Benzema. No one complained.

Cris stripped down quickly, took a quick shower and wore his daily clothes. He didn't waste any time on his hair and left the dressing room before anyone else. And for the second time on the same day, he felt someone pushing him, his back hit the wall. And it hurt. When he looked at the person who pushed him, he saw a really angry Xavi Hernández and normally, Cris would laugh at him because Xavi was short, maybe even shorter than Messi, and he has to look up to send Cris death glares. It sure does look like a fucking cartoon. Cris was not sure how Xavi came here, found him because under normal circumstances they were extremely careful to not let players face each other after matches. _Normal circumstances_.

“It's all your fault!” Iker must be heard Xavi's voice because suddenly he was standing between them, only in his shorts, didn't even take a shower yet.

“Hey, hey, Xavi, dude, back off!” Xavi glared at his friend and narrowed his eyes. Iker rolled his eyes and turned his back to Cris. “You know it's not his fault.”

“Oh, really?” Xavi smiled angrily.  

“Your friend did it to himself.” Casillas said harshly. Xavi's eyes were burning, Cris could almost swear that he saw a spark in his pupils.

“Like, what, are you blaming Leo? Is this his fault? Hmm? You are saying he deserved it for saving _his_ sorry ass?!” Xavi was not looking at him but Cris couldn't take his eyes off of Xavi. Cris would defend himself, he doesn't need Iker's protection but it was different. Today was different. Cris was confused about the whole thing. Casillas groaned and pinched his nose bridge.

“Fuck, Xavi, you know this was not what I meant. But your friend pushed Cris, he didn't even see the pitch invader coming.” Xavi looked at him angrily before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.  

“We will talk about this later.” Xavi turned his back to them and walked to the end of the corridor. Cris spoke for the first time.

“Are you going to hospital?” Xavi looked at him over his shoulder, eyes burning with hatred.

“It's none of your business, why are you asking?”

“I know you are.” Cris said simply. Xavi mumbled a 'whatever' and kept walking.

“I want to come, too.” Cris yelled after him.

“Oh, God, Cris..” Iker murmured softly and Cris didn't need him to tell him it's a bad idea. Cris knew. But he couldn't stop himself. He wanted to see Messi. He must see him. He wants to make sure he is fine or Cris-

Xavi laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, sure, like we would let you anywhere near him.” He pointed his index finger at Cris. “Stay away from _him_.”

“Xavi!” Three pairs of eyes turned to the other side of the corridor where a tall figure was standing. The light which was coming from the behind of him was making it impossible to see his face but there was no doubt that it was Gerard Piqué. Barça doesn't have many tall players anyway. Piqué walked to them.

“We need to go.” Xavi nodded and mumbled something that Cris couldn't hear. Then without looking at them, Iker or Cris, again, he disappeared at the end of the corridor. Piqué didn't follow him. He was standing there, directly looking into Cris' eyes. His blue eyes were ice cold and there was no readable expressions on his face. Somehow, this irritated Cris more than an angry Xavi.

“You want to come to hospital?” Gerard was not actually asking but Cris nodded anyway. Gerard was not showing any hatred or disgust but Cris was sure that he was not Piqué's favorite person on the planet Earth right now.

“Okay. I will message you the address. But..” He stopped for a second and eyed Cris carefully. “Not today.” Cris was going to protest, of couse he was, but Piqué raised his hand to silence him. “Everything is out of control right now, a huge fucking mess and everyone is nervous. If you come, I am sure you will start another fight and just.. wait until tomorrow, okay?” Cris didn't say anything because he was not happy with this decision but he knew Gerard was right. He nodded. He knew he was not going to sleep tonight. Not going to hospital, not seeing him, the idea of Messi slowly dying on a hospital bed while Cris was lying on his extremely comfortable bed, just because he was not careful enough, was making him sick. Like Cris owes _him_. And Cris hates to owe people. _Little shit did it again_ , Cris thought. Even without trophies and awards, without being on the pitch, the shadow of Messi was following him. He was still able to make Cris feel bad, frustrated and angry and-

Cris hated him for that.

“Good. Okay.” Piqué awkwardly stood there for a second and then walked after Xavi.


	2. Little Big Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The thing is, if we do stuff which is good for other people but we hurt the ones that love us most, then what's the point?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, it was so much fun to write this :)

Neymar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He has enough experience to know that seats in hospitals are not comfortable but tonight it was even worse and more uncomfortable than ever. Finally he gave up and looked at Xavi, who was sitting next to him, with some kind of expectation. Xavi felt his stares and looked toward the other guy with an annoyed expression.

“Can you please stop doing this? Just sit 2 minutes without moving, will you?” Neymar couldn't stop himself and spoke louder than what was allowed in hospitals.

“I am sorry! I just..” Neymar didn't continue and this time Xavi looked at the boy properly with curiosity. Neymar leaned forward, covering half of his face with his hands. Xavi took a deep breath and suddenly all the negative feelings and discomfort left his body, there was only sempathy and tiredness left.

“Is he going to be alright?” Xavi didn't say anything for a while, he was thinking about what to say to the kid. Xavi was not the most optimistic person on the planet but Neymar did look bad enough without his negative thoughts and moodiness. Xavi touched his thigh sempathically.

“Sure thing, you know how Leo is, he is a fighter.” Neymar bit his lower lip but nodded. Xavi was right, Leo was Neymar's idol and somehow he was always like a superhero in Neymar's eyes. Fearless, talented and strong enough to overcome all difficulties that comes in his way. But above all, he has this positive aura which gives you peace. When you are around him, you always feel peaceful and relaxed, like nothing can harm you because, hey, Leo is here.

Xavi felt Neymar relaxing under his touch and thought that he did a good job this time. They all need to stay calm. Finally Xavi removed his hand to give Neymar some privacy and leaned back in his seats. It was when he noticed Casillas who was looking around himself. Gerard who just came back from cafetaria and gave Neymar a cup of coffee before patting him on the back must be noticed Casillas as well because he straightened up immediately and looked around Casillas to see if Ronaldo was there with him. When Gerard was about to move forward and greet Casillas, Xavi raised his hand to stop Gerard and murmured a 'I will talk to him'. Gerard didn't say anything this time. Xavi stood up slowly and walked toward Casillas who just noticed them.

“They are not going to fight, right?” Gerard looked at Neymar who was staring up at him with worry in his hazel eyes. Gerard shrugged.

“Xavi and Iker don't fight. They.. argue but that's all.” Neymar nodded his head and took a sip from his coffee when Gerard felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. When he reached for his phone and looked at the ID, a curse escaped his lips.

“Fuck, Cesc is calling. I should have called him before, if he heard it from news or twitter, he is going to bite my head off.” Neymar nodded once again, like bobbing head dog. Gerard walked toward the window to answer his phone.

 

 

“Did he send you here? Is he here too?” Iker rolled his eyes, Xavi was a good friend, not always so serious like what was expected from him, he is a good man with sense of humour but when he gets angry, he attacks everyone around him. And Cris was supposed to be the last thing in his mind right now but he was clearly still mad at him.

“No, he is not here, okay?” Iker ignored the first question on purpose. Xavi narrowed his eyes and eyed his friend closely and then nodded his head, showing that he trusts his friend.

Casillas shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and ran a hand through his hair.

“So.. how is _he_?” Xavi raised one of his eyebrows, it seems like Casillas was avoiding to say Leo's name on purpose. But Xavi didn't say anything about it.

“We don't know yet. He just came out of surgery but as far as I understood from what doctors say, it is not good.” Iker froze. On his way to hospital, he was so sure that Xavi was going to give him good news and now it seemed like he was newly grasping the seriousness of the incident. _Messi will die._ Jesus.

“Wait, what does it mean?”

“That means he is still in a critical condition.” Xavi lifted his chin and diretly looked into Casillas' eyes like he was challenging Iker to say something. The first thing Casillas thought was how young Messi is. Only 28. _Oh, God_.

“But he will be fine eventually.. right?” Xavi shrugged like he's never thought about it before. And it was true. Xavi is a person who only likes to think about the moment, live the moment even though it sounds cheesy. But it was working. His friend was still living inside the room, he was still breathing _at the moment_ and it was good enough. He was alive.

“We hope so.” Xavi looks over Casillas' shoulder, not looking at his face. “They say it's bad, there was too much blood but.. yeah, they didn't say anything about death so..”

“Okay.” Iker nodded. It was more than he would like to know. “Okay.” They looked at each other. Xavi coughed awkwardly and reached his pocket.

“I need to go. I should call Celia, Leo's mother, and ask them when is their flight.” Xavi looked at Iker with some kind of expectation and yes, Iker got the message. He nodded.

“Yeah, umm, I need to go, too.” But he didn't move. His eyes found Xavi's again. Xavi looked so tired. Like a worried, sick father. “I am so sorry, Xavi.”

“Yeah, me too.”

 

 

“Oh God, oh God!” Antonella Roccuzzo covered her mouth with her hands while walking to ICU. Gerard raised his head and spotted Antonella immediately. He felt like an idiot for forgetting about her, she was his best friend's girlfriend, mother of his son, and Gerard should have done better. Leo would trust Gerard and he just left his family alone when they needed him most. _Dumb_ , he thought and shoke his head.

Luckily, Ivan and Andrés were not as shocked as him and they were walking behind her, probably drove her here and helped her. Gerard stood up and opened his arms for her.

“Anto.” Antonella wrapped her arms around him tightly and sobbed. Then all of a sudden, she pushed him away and her index finger directly pointed at his chest.

“Don't you dare to lie to me, Gerard Piqué? Is he..” she took a shaky breath before continuing. “Is he dying?” She pointed at Andrés and Ivan over her shoulder. “They are not telling me anything!”

“It is because we don't know anything, Anto.” Andrés mumbled, not looking at her. He just couldn't look at her.

“But you know, right, Gerard?” Gerard gulped. He didn't know how to tell her. Or what to tell in this case. Her voice was full of hope and fear and many other feelings and-

“He is not dying, Anto.” _We hope so_. “Leo is going to be okay.” Anto looked at him for a second, eyes so intense that Gerard felt uncomfortable under her gaze. Then she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh God.” she murmured again. “Idiot.”

“Anto, it's not-”

“Don't. Don't, please. Ugh, I am so mad at him!” Gerard shrugged uncomfortably.

"You know it's not Ronaldo's-"

“I am not mad at _him_!” Gerard raised his eyebrows. He was shocked, of course he assumed she was mad at Cristiano. And Gerard couldn't blame her. Anto was living a nightmare right now and no one could blame her for the things she says. “I am mad at Leo.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “How could he do this to me? Selfish jerk.” Gerard softly touched her arm. "The thing is, if we do stuff which is good for other people but we hurt the ones that love us the most, then what's the point?" Gerard had no answer to this.

“Anto, let's just sit. You must be tired and shocked. Come on.” Anto nodded but kept talking while they were talking toward the seats.

“How could he do this to me? Oh, God. He never thinks before acting, does he?” Gerard helped her to sit but she grabbed his arm and didn't let go. Gerard noticed how cold her hands were. She looked up at him.

“What am I going to do if he.. if something happens to him?” Gerard sighed and gently caressed her arm.

“Don't think about this right now, okay? I will get you something warm to drink.”

Gerard walked toward his friends, Ivan and Andrés, who were standing next to window. Sky was dark and it somehow made Gerard feel sick. This night was not going to end. At least this is how Gerard felt.

“Where is Thiago?”

“He is with Anna.” Andrés said simply. Gerard nodded, he was worried about the little boy. He was not aware of what was going on, not right now, but he was not young enough to not to understand that there is something wrong with his family. Gerard thought about it before, when he was sitting in Xavi's car while older man was driving to the hospital. If something bad happens (Gerard just couldn't say the words, not even in his own head, it was so wrong, Leo was so young), Gerard must take care of his family. It was not a duty, this is simply what he wants to do. He wants to be there for Thiago, play football with him (because his father can't, because he is not there anymore) and tell him how great his father was. The best without a doubt.  

Thinking about his childhood friend's death was something he tried to avoid but Gerard was no child. He has to be the man of his age and act like a responsible friend. Even if the idea of losing a big and an important part of his childhood is killing him. He didn't know how he is going to look at Thiago again if his friend dies. He was just a perfect copy of his best friend. But he has to.  This is what Leo would want him to do.

His phone rang and Gerard was almost going to thank the person that was calling him. He couldn't deal with his own thoughts and the images in his head. Seeing his friend bleeding to death on the pitch was something that he will need a lot time to get over.

“Yeah?” He answered without checking the ID.

“Oh my God, love, are you okay?” Gerard closed his eyes, relaxed when he heard Shakira's familiar voice.

“I am.. I don't know, I think I am fine. Just shocked. I am more worried about Anto and his family.” Geard heard Shakira sigh.

“How is Antonella doing?”

“She is..” Gerard stopped, not knowing what to say. What could he say? He looked at the other side of the room, saw Anto talking on the phone and crying. She was ruined. “She is not very good.”

“What am I asking, God, of course she is not.” Shakira murmured. “Do you need me? Because I can, you know, I can find a catch a flight right now, I am sure.”

“No, no. You work, okay, I am fine.”

“You sure?” Shakira asked softly. “Because I am not comfortable with leaving you there, all worried and scared.”

“Yeah, I am sure.” Shakira sighed.

“Okay then. I need to go and feed Milan. Take care, okay. And call me if doctors say anything.” Gerard smiled softly.

“I will. Kiss Milan for me.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you more.”

 

 

There was a mug on the table, untouched and cold but Cris was careless. The coffee he made right after coming home and pizza that ordered by Iker who literally begged Cris to eat at least 2 slices were lying on the table like two lonely souls. No attention, no love for them tonight. There was something so sad about this picture. So lonely. Cris was sitting in his living room, the only light was coming from the kitchen and it was faint but enough for him to see everything inside the room. His eyes wandered around the room aimlessly. Someone would break into his house and he would not even notice. Wine colored wall was making his stomach twitch. He was glad that he didn't eat the pizza Iker ordered for him. Otherwise, he would be throwing up right now. When he finally sick and tired of the silence he reached for remote next to his untouched mug. And wished he did not. Sickeningly dull and faint light and high pitched voices coming from his TV filled the room. Weird, Cris doesn't remember watching Canal+. But somehow he was looking at one of their programs right now. What really bothered him was not light or middle aged people arguing but, no, it was _what they were arguing about_. Of course, what else they would be talking about?

Screen was split two, on left side the hosts and their guests were discussing something passionately but Cris was not listening. He was looking at the right side of the screen. He couldn't take his eyes off of the scene. And for a second Cris thanked Messi for pushing him hard enough to shake his world. Because if he had seen this on the pitch, right in front him, it would take him, like, weeks to recover from this.

The first thing Cris thought was, _wow it's nothing like in movies_. He noticed himself, watching the fight between Barça and Madrid players. And when Messi turned his back to the fight, Cris noticed the pitch invader. He was wearing a Barça jersey and was running toward him (and Cris was surprised to see how fast he was running). He reached to waistband of his jeans and the first thing Cris thought was how could they let this happen after what happened between Atlético and Deportivo fans. Then Messi raised his head and noticed the pitch invader who was chasing by security now. Messi sees the knife and at the same time, the guy raises his hand to stab Cris' lower back, the hatred in his eyes was painfully clear. When Messi pushes Cristiano, the guy stumbles forward and knife, without hesitation, cuts the fabric of bluagrana jersey and next second it was fully buried into little Argentine's stomach. Cris realized it would be a serious injury for him and his career due to the height difference (well, it looks bad for Messi as well). The man looks shocked, he takes a step back. Security jumps on him and man tries to run again, he punches security in the face but Cris knows he was fighting a losing battle, there is no way he can make it out of this stadium. Cris also noticed that he was looking at sky like an idiot when hell breaks loose next to him. He almost felt embarrassed of his meaningless thought on dark sky and stadium lights. Messi's gloved hands wrap around the knife handle and even though it's not a close shot, Cris noticed that his hands are shaking. Messi pulls off the knife with a nonchalant expression which makes Cris uncomfortable and knife falls from his shaky hands. Lying on the grass like a harmless object. Messi must be really shocked because everyone watches enough movie to know that you should not do it yourself. At least this is what Cris remembers. It would do more harm than good. Then when Cris tries to stand up, Messi falls on his knee, one hand on the ground to support his weight and not to fall forward. Cris wonders how he didn't hear the angry or shocked voice of fans or Piqué's scream, who pushes Marcelo away and runs toward his friend. Cris knew what happens after that, he doesn't need to watch it over and over again. But they keep playing it like it's one of those goals or fouls or offside positions they like to watch and discuss for hours. It made Cris sick again and he almost called the program to tell them fuck off. But then scene suddenly changes and host says that they go will live to Paseo de la Castellana for some interviews with fans. Now Cris was interested. A young man with a microphone appears on TV and next to him there was a 25-26 years old guy in a Real Madrid jersey. Journo first asks some questions about 'the incident' and Cris noticed that Madrid fan's trying to calm down and speak comprehensibly. He tells him what he saw and then journo asks him if he and Real Madrid fans have a message to media and Barça fans. Camera slowly zooms into his face.

“On behalf of all of us, I want to send all my get well wishes to Messi, his family, Barça fans, players and staff. It was unfortunate and he showed us that the color of our shirts don't matter, we are all here for football and we are standing up against the violence and hooliganism together.” Journo thanks him and camera turns with him to his right. Seeing same blaugrana jersey on a random Barça fan was unexpected for Cris and for a second he thinks it looks weird without all the blood. The last time he saw the shirt, it was covered with blood. Blood of his so called rival. Cris noticed how young the Barça fan is. But he looks more professional and serious than Madrid fan. _Dead serious_. Cris would laugh. But he did not. He, Barça fan, also wants to send a message to media and fans.

“As a Barça fan, I want to apologize to Cristiano Ronaldo about what happened tonight but please don't judge entire fanbase only by the action of a mad man. We don't accept him as one of us, when we say més que un club, we mean something else, the political side of Barça was and never will be about fascism, **Boixos Nois is not Barça.** So, please don't forget this and don't let them make it all about Catalan freedom and Spain, stand with us against them. Laporta defeated them once, we can do it again. Thank you. This is all I am going to say. Goodnight.”

Cris almost finds it funny that how this 'incident' united Barça and Real Madrid fans. _Almost_.

He heard his door bell ringing, he muted his TV and exactly knowing who came, he got up and almost runs to his front door.

“How is he?” Iker dusted the light snow off his shoulders. When they left the stadium 2 hours ago, there was no sign of snow. But weather changed suddenly. Like nature was aware of their sadness and was trying to comfort them. Iker took off his jacket and walked to the living room without saying anything.

Well..” Iker threw his jacket on Cris' leather couch, knowing that he wouldn't mind it being wet.

“Yeah?” Cris was frustrated by Iker's slowness.

“I don't know.” Iker shrugged. Cris eyed his friend and frowned. Iker always keeps his promises and he was sure this time was no different. But what he said-

“What do you mean you don't know? You said you went there and-” Iker waved his hand restlessly and silenced him. Cris was talking fastly and passionately and it had been a long night and Cris was just giving him a terrible headache.

“Jesus, calm down! I did. As you said, I went there and talked to Xavi. But they don't know either. They said it's pretty bad.”

“But he will live, right?” Iker looked at Cris but didn't say anything. He would understand Cris feeling guilty but Cris was reacting worse than expected. In the end, it was Messi's own fault, he acted without thinking and tried to become the hero of the day (if you ask Iker, it was stupid). Cris did nothing. A part of him was glad that it was Messi and not Cris who got stabbed and he knew he should feel bad about thinking this way. They, Messi and him, were not close but they always had a professional relationship and Iker said it before that he would like to play with Messi in Spain. If Messi was not patriotic, they would be friends right now. It was easy to get along with Argentine, he was easygoing and calm and polite.

“I mean, yeah, I think so.” He ran a hand through his hair and Cris realized how tired and frustrated his friend looked. He almost felt bad for him but he was dealing with worse right now. “They say it's serious but I don't think he will.. you know, die.”

Cris took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He gave himself permission to relax. This was not exactly the answer he would like to hear but better than nothing. He can avoid the first part for now. He turned his gaze to TV. Host was still talking to his guests and making stupid gestures. Cris sighed. It seemed like that night was not going to end anytime soon.

 

 

 

“Leo?” Antonella's hands covered Leo's pale one tightly. Her hair was falling down on her face but Gerard could still see the love and hope in her eyes and Gerard felt like he was interrupting a private moment. Her hand gently pushed his hair away from his face. “Darling, can you hear me?”

Doctors told him that they will take him to a standart room and watch his condition carefully from now on and talk to them later. One of the nurses also mentioned that Leo talked in his sleep which was surprising because according to Anto, Leo would never speak in his sleep. Nurse said he mumbled random things when she went to check him and now Anto was trying to talk to him, see if he wakes up and it was sad to watch. Gerard suddenly felt too tired.

“Anto, you should give him some time.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and nodded sadly. It was not easy but there was nothing she can do.

“Right, I should-” Suddenly her eyes grew wider and Gerard was worried. He can't deal with another bad news tonight. Not after what happened. But Anto smiled softly and looked her hands which was lying on Leo's. Gerard followed her gaze and-

Leo's long and pale fingers wrapped around Anto's hand and he turned his head to right side, toward the door, Gerard and Anto, without opening his eyes and groaned. Anto leaned closer and smiled.

“Love, are you with me?” she whispered softly. Gerard could see her teary eyes. Leo nodded, again without opening his eyes. But his face was grimaced with pain. Gerard stepped outside and looked around to find a nurse. “I was so worried.” she whispered again. Leo blinked few times before opening his eyes. He groaned again, probably because of the annoyingly white lighting. But he didn't close his eyes again, instead he directly looked into Anto's eyes.

“'m fine.” Anto chuckled softly.  

“Shut up. You are anything but fine.” She leaned closer and kissed his forehead softly before pushing her forehead against his. She looked at his face carefully, especially his eyes.

“I thought I was not going to see these eyes again.” Leo smiled lazily.

“Good thing that our son has my eyes.” Anto chuckled again.

“Dumb.” She covered his lips with hers. It was short and a doctor and a nurse were already standing in front of his bed. Gerard leaned against the door frame and smiled warmly. He reached his phone to make some calls.

 

 

Cris breathed nervously and grimaced when typical hospital smell hit his nose. The reason he was nervous was not because he was afraid of Xavi, the truth is, Cris doesn't even care. However he was nervous about seeing Messi. Casillas stopped by in the morning and told him that they took Messi to a standart room and he woke up once but it was short and now they were keeping an eye on him. Cris got up quickly but stopped by Iker. Iker told him that Messi's family just came from Argentina and it was not a good idea to face them right now, Xavi will take them to Messi's home after evening (they must be tired and even though Antonella didn't like the idea of leaving his boyfriend, she has a child to take care of) and only Piqué will be there so if he still wants to see Messi then, he can. Fuck, of course Cris would still want to see him.  

So, in the end, Cris was walking behind Iker, following his steps. When they finally arrived to the room, Cris realized that it was far from eyes and it made perfect sense. Now the last thing they need is to be disturbed by an obsessed fan. Iker knocked the door slowly before opening. He was standing between him and the door and was talking to someone. Finally he let Cris in. Cris looked around the room, typical white walls and a cardiac monitor and everything. Then he saw Piqué who was sitting next to Messi's bed. Cris stood up and walked to Cris until they face each other. Their eyes locked for a second, then Piqué turned to Iker.

“I am going to the cafetaria, to get something eat. Are you coming?” Iker eyed his friend carefully, he was not sure if his friend wants to be alone with Messi but when Cris nodded, Iker took the offer. Piqué let Iker go first and looked at Cris over his shoulder.

“You have 2.5 hours. I don't know why you want to come here and watch someone sleeping like a creep but if it is going to make you feel better..” He closed the door and Cris was alone. Well, except Messi. Cris walked to the chair where Piqué was sitting a couple of minutes ago. And he finally looked at Messi properly.

He was always so pale but.. but this time it was not normal. He was almost as pale as sheets. One of his arms was lying on his stomach like the last time Cris saw him on TV. It somehow made Cris feel worse because Cris remembers the video and how Messi pulled off the knife and-

Cris felt like he was not standing in a hospital room but he was attending a funeral and looking at the corpse in the coffin. He was not getting this idea out of his head so he reached forward. He didn't notice maybe but his own hands were shaking. He touched Messi's hand. To feel how cold it is. To make sure he is still alive. When his fingers traced the soft and pale skin of Messi's hand and felt he was actually warm unlike what he thought, a big burden has been lifted off his shoulders. He knew it was stupid of him, there was a cardiac monitor to comfirm that Messi was pretty alive but somehow Cris felt like he has to prove it to himself. When Messi murmured softly, Cris realized he was still touching him, he removed his hand quickly and leaned closer to hear what he says.

“Gerard..” Messi murmured without opening his eyes, gave a grimace of pain and turned his face to his right, to Cris. Cris was sitting there, without really knowing what to say when Messi opened his eyes. But fluorescent light caused him to close his eyes again and groan. “Fuck.” he mumbled. “Gerard, ugh, nurse..” Cris leaned forward quickly and pressed the button to call nurse. Messi's hand went to his face to rub his eyes and finally opened them. His chocolate colored eyes met with Cris'. “Oh.”

They looked at each other awkwardly for a second. Messi looked surprised to see him here. Like, what, did he actually think that Cris wouldn't come to see him? It was crazy to think like that. Well, he was crazy after all but..

Suddenly the nurse entered the room and walked passed Ronaldo like he was not even there.

“Oh, you woke up again.” she smiled warmly. “This is good. You will undergo more tests tomorrow but right now, I will only give you some painkillers, okay?” Leo nodded his head gratefully. Cris watched nurse do her job. A part of him was happy to have someone else in the room because it was too damn awkward between them now but somehow he also felt like he wanted to be alone with him and talk. He has to ask. _Why?_

But when nurse left the room, Cris just sat there, without knowing what to say or do. They didn't talk. Instead, Cris watched pain leave Messi's face slowly. He seemed relaxed and this also affected Ronaldo's mood.

“You know, you don't have to be here.” Leo murmured against the pillow, eyes closed, face relaxed.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Leo yawned and shifted in his bed to get more comfortable. Cris looked at his closed eyes and soft brown hair and thought that the medicines they gave to him must be strong. “You don't owe me anything.” For the first time since last night, Ronaldo's face softened. If Messi's eyes were open, he would be taken aback by how soft and intense his expression was. 

“Maybe I want to.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to be here.” Leo smiled softly and mumbled something that Cris was not able to hear before completely falling asleep. After Cris made sure he won't wake up again anytime soon, he stood up slowly and stretched his legs. His left hand reached forward without permission, touched Messi's soft, brown hair and surprised by how soft his hair actually was. Messi was weird, no hairgel, nothing. Not even a special, different hairstyle.

If Cris didn't know him and meets him on a normal day, he wouldn't believe what Messi can do. Messi has this annoying _'oh I am no one special, I am just like anyone else'_ syndrome (which was funny because he was not normal, not at all) and Ronaldo always rolls his eyes at his humble comments. _Yeah, dude, you are great just admit it, it won't hurt anyone._ Cris was not as arrogant as people think he is, well, yeah maybe he likes himself but it was not always like this. Hell yeah, Cris loves himself, Cris knows what he can do if you give him a ball and enough space, he likes what he sees in the mirror. Ronaldo believes that one must be confident enough to admit that they are beautiful and talented. But being arrogant, like media thought, was a strategic. It seems like Messi doesn't know off the pitch rules. His humility may be impress people but it was his biggest weakness. Messi has never attacked media (and God knows they deserve it sometimes) when they push him over the edge (not that Messi showes it but..) or sued anyone and it was making Cris so fucking mad. God, how can someone be so careless? Like, the guy has his own special world in his head and he doesn't care anything else. And Cris must admit that he envies this side of him sometimes but he also knows that it is crazy.

Well, everything about Messi was a little crazy after all.

Yes, Messi was driving him crazy sometimes, yes, his recklessness and that he lives like he is not aware of how good he is (Cris knew it was not true, he remembers reading a Hunter article named 'aware of his genius but completely unaffected by it' on Messi -because, you must know your enemies better than your friends-, he _knows_ ). The guy was so far away from being a superstar. And Cris must admit, there were times he thought world would be a better place without Messi (2009 UCL final for example). But now that he was sitting here, so far away from the pitch, he realized how stupid it was. If tomorrow he dies, what would Cris feel? No joy, for sure.

“Stupid man,” Cris murmured, “you always have to be the hero, right? Even if it is not in football.”

Cris leaned closer to look at his face, his closed eyes, his hair, then pressed his mouth to his ear and whispered.

“Don't die on me or I will make sure that you will never find peace.”

When Cris left the room and closed the door after himself, he felt warm, sleepy and tired and his muscles suddenly relaxed. He was finally going to get a good night's sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1-)It's a miracle that he is still alive, normally I like to kill my favorite characters. Well, I leave it to your imagination, I didn't say he fully recovered after all :)
> 
> 2-)There is a reason I didn't make this a one shot. I focused on Cris in the first chapter and Messi's teammates in the second one because I know it was supposed to be a fic about Messi and Ronaldo but there is this weird bond between Barça players and I just cannot avoid it, can I?
> 
> 3-) Before anyone says "Messi is 27!", as I mentioned in the first chapter, it takes place in 2016 and Barça already played in Santiago Bernabéu this season and I also mentioned it's winter which means it's 2016/2017 season (after summer which means Messi is, indeed, 28).
> 
> I am working on another fic right now but don't know if I will post it or not.
> 
> I want to thank you all for leaving comments or kudos and for reading my story. I, once again, want to apologize for any grammar mistakes, I like to write and I like to share even more but my English is not as good as yours, I am afraid. I hope you don't mind :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Sidekick in the Sidelines](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241961) by [jinnocenceph11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinnocenceph11/pseuds/jinnocenceph11)




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